


Shattered Glass

by Hibiskisss



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt, M/M, Mpreg, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibiskisss/pseuds/Hibiskisss
Summary: When I was a child I used to think that love could be stronger than all the problems that life confronted me with. I had been convinced of its power, extent and consistency. But love was not infinite. And time could not heal wounds.





	1. Isak's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,  
> I'm Austrian, so obviously English is not my first language and this story came to me at 3am, even though I'm currently in the process of finishing three different university degrees and really really should study (or sleep...but as the great Even Bech Naesheim already said "Sleep is the cousin of death").  
> Anyway, this story contains male pregnancy, so if you don't like it then simply don't read it.  
> Enjoy :)

When I was a child – long before my mother got sick – I used to think that love could be stronger than all the problems that life confronted me with. I had been convinced of its power, extent and consistency, I had put my trust in it and had placed my fate in its hands. Until today it has been the reason I didn’t say anything for that long, silently accepted every disappointment and kept hiding my tears. But love was not infinite. And time could not heal the wounds caused by all those lonely hours in which I had lain awake and waited for Even. I just got used to the pain, it accompanied me every step of the way and reminded me every second of my life how fragile love could ultimately be. And how deep the scars could be, left by its shards on my skin and my soul.

Quietly, I closed the front door behind me and looked around. Outside, the sun had already set and the apartment laid half in the dark, but I did not want to turn on the light because the gloomy mood somehow reflected my emotional world in a painful way. My gaze wandered over the dresser to the broken picture frame on the floor and once again I fought against the tears that gathered in my eyes and threatened to fall. The sight of our photo behind the shattered glass formed a lump in my throat and sobbing I broke away from the image that ultimately stood for our failed relationship and stormed into the bedroom.

The wooden floor was creaking under my feet with every step I took and the sound made my ears ring and my head spin. Hours of walking through Oslo had drained me and I shivered, the cold crept through my body and made my heart freeze. I had been blind for far too long, which was why it seemed to me that the reality finally hit me twice as hard. But I could not and did not want to be strong anymore or ignore Even’s behaviour. Tired, I sat down on the edge of the bed, rested my head in my hands and finally let the tears run freely, which I had already suppressed all day while I thought back to our argument this afternoon.

_"Isak, I told you that I have to work. We are understaffed, what do you want me to do? "Irritated, Even marched up and down the room and ran a hand through his hair, effectively ruin it. He always did that when he was angry but today I would not give in._

_"You spend more time at the studio than at home. For years, you've been promising me that you'll stop working for this idiot of a director so we can spend more time together and every time I ask you about it you have another excuse!”, I shouted back as angrily. Six years ago, Even decided to quit uni during a manic episode and started working for an unsuccessful and tyrannical short-movie director, who didn’t give a fuck about his employees or people in general. "Do you remember when we last ate together? Or when we even spoke reasonably to each other?" By now I was already screaming and my voice was an octave higher than usual. More often than not Even began working at the studio at dawn when I was still asleep and when he came home from work it was usually already past midnight. If he ever came home ..._

_"Well, he’s an artist, I can’t just stop working at five in the afternoon and spend the rest of the day on the sofa like you do. I have to earn money and ... "_

_"And what do I do then? Do I not work for money as well, do I not get up every morning and go to the lab? Do I really ask too much from you when I simply want to spend some time with my fiancé instead of being alone for almost seven days a week?"_

_"And is it too much to ask for your support, instead of constantly naggin? Have you ever wondered why I took every extra shift at the studio?", Even shouted back at me. And well fuck! Startled, I looked at him with wide eyes, unable to do anything or even to reply. That was the moment when my world collapsed and the realization that our relationship was in a much worse shape than I always wanted to realize literally blew my breath away. It wasn’t the first time he broke my heart, but this time it shattered in way too many pieces that pierced my inside._

_"Even, I'm pr..." I started in a shaky voice, but Even already stormed past me and out of the room and a few seconds later I heard glass shattering and the banging of a door. Slowly, my hands moved to my stomach and I desperately tried to regulate my breathing while the room suddenly seemed to get smaller and I felt like suffocating. I had to get out of here, I thought and stumbled through the foyer to the stairwell and out on the street, breathing heavily and gradually becoming aware of the full extent of our argument._

Still sobbing, I removed my hands from my face and looked at the engagement ring on my finger that Even had put there two years ago. We had been so happy, even though our problems were the same as today, but back then, completely in love, I had ignored them. And we had not even had time to talk about the wedding in those two years, let alone set a date, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Again, my hands moved to my stomach and rubbed it gently before I made a decision that maybe had always been our destiny. I just did not want to accept it for a long time because I was desperately clinging to the last intact remnants of our relationship. In the closet I searched for a travel bag, packed my few belongings and stormed into the kitchen with the bag in my hand. The fading light that fell from the bedroom was lighting up the room only partially and once again I fought back the tears as I approached the dining table. Slowly, I took off my ring and put it on the table next to a small photo that I had been carrying for two weeks in the back of my jeans. Once again, I gently ran my finger over the gray spot on the black background and couldn’t fight the smile that slowly crept on my lips. My little bean was just eight weeks old, but they would not be able to save our relationship, that much I knew. I would have this baby, shower them with all the love I couldn’t give Even anymore and make them a better person than his parents ever were. But more importantly, I would do all of this on my own.

"Your daddy should know," I whispered, caressing the photo one last time and finally left the kitchen with my bag. Even had a right to know, even if it wouldn’t change anything between us anymore. Carefully, I climbed over the shattered glass of our photo on the floor, opened the door and left my broken life behind me without looking back, so that my wounds and my heart could finally begin to heal.


	2. Even's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo :)  
> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments. Each one of them made me so happy and I'm sorry I couldn't reply immediately, let's just say I really don't know how to handle my life.  
> Sooooooooo...I might look right now like a racoon on drugs, but considering that I have finished another paper for my French classes AND a second chapter for this story, it was totally worth it.  
> As I've already said in a reply to one of the comments: I put the tags there for a reason! Please keep that in mind.  
> Have fun reading <3

Dying hurts. After all my depressive episodes and a suicide attempt I really should know by now how dying feels like, but this was still much worse than everything I’ve ever felt before. Painful and final. I could still breathe, but it still felt like suffocating. I could still move my arms and legs, but it still felt like they didn’t even belong to my body. There was this emptiness in my chest, a mind-consuming burning pain right where my heart used to be. But right now, there was nothing more than a huge gaping hole which felt like dying, but at the same time death was still out of reach. At least for now...

How long could a man survive without his heart? I knew the answer because I had felt it before back when we were at Nissen and things between us were still uncertain, but this was different. I had not felt that sense of loss since that faithful night at the hotel, after I had run off naked and thought that I had lost Isak forever. To be alone had hurt, only the pain back then was not comparable to today's.

I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth, not a single sound came from my lips. The urge to simply take a knife and put an end to the pain was overwhelming, but there was this photo that kept me from doing something like that. The little grey spot in front of a black background, barely bigger than a worm, caught my attention and gave me at least a small bit of hope to cling to like a drowning man.

We would have a baby. _He_ would have a baby.

We had dreamed of the future and made plans, even though there were already cracks on the surface of our relationship. The constant arguments, the accusations and allegations, all this had been the beginning of the end and I had repeatedly refused to face the facts and had instead fled to work. I had consciously taken more and more shifts at the studio to avoid the constant arguments and to have an excuse to stay away from the tension in our apartment.

We both had long missed the time to finally talk to each other and now it was too late. Isak had made a decision and I knew that no loving kisses and no romantic dinner could save our failed relationship. We had already hurt each other too deeply and now the only person who could put the shards of my broken life back together was gone.

It was as if my legs were no longer mine when I struggled to stand up and stumbled slowly to the sink. The wet stains on my shirt made me realize that I had been crying for the first time in six years, when Sonja had picked me up from the police station and Isak had told me to stop texting him.

With shaky hands, I turned on the tap and splashed a few ice-cold drops in my face in order to be able to think clearly again. I fucked up. Badly. And even after all his pleas, I was still too blind to see how far I’ve pushed him. I was standing in front of our apartment for hours because I simply wasn’t ready to get back to him after my shift at the studio ended. But even after I opened the door and saw the shattered glass on the floor, I still thought he was here. After everything I did to him, I should have known better than to strengthen his insecurities with my stupid comment about the extra hours, and yet the fact that he was actually gone hurt more than a knife through my heart.

Slowly, I turned off the faucet and leaned back heavily until I could push my back against the wall to support the weight of my own body which suddenly seemed to be even heavier than during my depressive episodes. I didn’t care about the drops of water dripping down from my wet face onto my shirt, nor did the stains on the wooden floor bother me. I just had eyes for the photo and the ring, as if those two things would suddenly vanish in favour of bringing my fiancé back.

I had to get to him, no matter how, but this could not be the end. We had to talk about it, even if we hadn’t had a proper conversation for the last few months, because now it was definitely necessary. We were going to have a baby, a little innocent worm, who shouldn’t be forced to grow up with only one parent because their father had behaved like an asshole. Isak shouldn’t have to do this alone, once again taking care of someone because everyone else just fucked off, and if he still didn’t want to see me after our talk, then he should at least say it to my face.

My newfound determination spurred me on more than I expected and gave me the strength I needed to make my way back through the kitchen and corridor to my car. There weren’t many places for Isak to go and there was precisely _one_ place where he would be after a breakup.

It was difficult for me to focus on the traffic with too much pain in my chest and fear of what would come next. Would I even get a chance after everything that had happened between us? Would he forgive me and my mistakes one last time? Would _I_ be able to simply forget _his_ mistakes? At least, I didn’t have to think about the latter for a second: in the last few hours I had learned in the most painful way how much I really loved Isak and how unimaginable a life would be without him. A baby couldn’t magically solve our problems, but it was a damn good start.

Hesitantly, I knocked on the door next to a small brass plate with the name Jonas Vasquez on it and nervously kneaded my fingers. "Isak?" I asked in a shaky voice, hoping he would open de door for me. Because if he didn’t, I would already have his final answer.

I didn’t know how long I stood in front of the door, but at some point, I could make out soft footsteps and another couple of agonizing seconds later, he finally opened the door. The relief that washed through me for a fraction of a second disappeared just as fast as it had come when I looked into his face. His eyes were puffy and slightly red from crying, but there was also a determination in his look that scared me more than anything else. He suffered the same way I did, but he had already made a decision and if I thought before that the pain couldn't get any worse, I had been wrong.

"Issy," I breathed into the tense air between us and he jumped at the sound of my voice as if I had hit him. Slowly, his gaze dropped to the floor and his eyes widened as he stared at his feet and for a couple of seconds I thought he was just fighting a battle with himself whether or not he should just slam the door into my face. But suddenly he jerked his head up and starred at me with pure horror written all over his face, which confused me even more than his previous reaction.

Finally, I followed his horrified look down to a spot on his sweats between his legs - which slowly turned dark red - and to the inside of his thighs, where the blood steadily crept its way to the ground until it landed in small round drops on the carpet.

*****

Sometimes, there were moments in life when time just seemed to stand still. It happened quite often when you wanted exactly the opposite, during exams at university or when you’re stuck in a traffic jam. Less often it happened that time seemed to stand still because your mind is too happy to register the seconds passing around you. The moment a woman whispered to her husband _Yes_ after he had dropped to his knees in front of her, or the first time you held your child in your arms.

But sometimes it could be a simple sentence that stopped your entire world from spinning and made you feel like time had frozen.

"It happens", the nurse said, giving me a sympathetic smile. I felt sick and disgusted as I turned away from her. _It happens_. Isak had just lost his baby, it simply shouldn’t happen!

"Mr. Bech Næsheim", I heard the doctor’s voice behind me, but I just couldn’t stand him right now and shook my head instead. _It happens_. Maybe it was that simple for them, tell a parent their child is dead and continue with your life because it was “just” a couple-of-weeks-old fetus. But for me it was everything I had ever dreamed of. It was my baby, my little worm and my fiancé, who currently laid in a hospital bed after a miscarriage.

_It happens_. No, something like that was never allowed to happen and certainly not to the most wonderful and unique person in the world.

I felt helpless and weak, but most of all, I was afraid to go to Isak. Even though I knew that I shouldn’t leave him alone right now, but that didn’t change the fact that I was still terribly afraid to face him. Afraid of saying something wrong. Afraid of being rejected. Afraid of losing him for good, like he had just lost our baby.

When I opened the door, I had to blink a couple of times to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the barley lit hospital room. The quiet buzz of the light bulb across the closed blinds and the steady sound of the heart monitor were the only two noises in the room and - for the millionth time today – I didn’t know what to do. Isak’s face was turned away from me and I couldn’t see whether or not he was asleep. Unsure of what to do, I remained next to the door with clenched fists while I feverishly thought of all the things I could say. There was so much between us that it should be easy for me to find my words, but in the end, there was nothing that could ease his pain. It didn’t matter what I said because it would have always been the wrong thing, so I just kept quiet, crossed the room in a few steps and hesitantly grabbed his hand.

For the second time that day the tears in my eyes threatened to fall and I didn’t even try to hide my feelings which were overpowering me right now because I couldn’t win this fight anyway. So much had broken today and the awareness that Isak hadn’t only lost his baby, but I had also lost my child and most likely my fiancé as well, let me burry my head in Isak’s side and I couldn’t suppress a sob escaping from my throat.

I didn’t look up until I felt his cool hand on my cheek and his fingers cautiously tracing the contours of my face. His beautiful green eyes, in which I had lost myself so many times, looked at me full of tears, but there was also something else that I couldn’t fully understand, but it helped me to breathe again. There was still a lot between us and we definitely needed to have a proper talk sometime, but right now none of us had to say something because sometimes it was enough for us to just look at each other and to interlace our fingers.  

We were both like glue to each other, carefully sticking together the other's broken dreams and shattered glass that life kept throwing in our ways. The cracks might always be visible, but even diamonds had rough edges.

And we would put each other together again, piece by piece, minute by minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts :-)


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